There are three words I never wanted to say, even though I knew that someday I would have to say them.  Those words are "my Dad was".

My Dad was a wonderful, sweet, kind, and loving man.  Doug Seggelin was devoted to his family.  He always put others first.  He was my hero, and I loved him dearly.  He was inventive, and quite brilliant.  His room at home is packed with sheets upon sheets of complex equations and diagrams, carefully inscribed in engineering pencil, and I cannot make heads or tails of any of it.

He had a rare wit, and was always making folks laugh.  At any family get together, if people started laughing en-masse, you could almost guarantee that my Dad had a hand in it.  He loved his grandchildren, and was always making faces to make them smile or playing with them.

He was utterly committed to his wife of 48 years and his children.  If I ever asked my Dad for help, he would help me, no matter what.  He took great care of his sister who is bedridden with multiple sclerosis, and his mother who turned 91 this year.  He was well liked and respected by the people he worked with.  He loved animals, particularly birds, and because of this my mother always called him her "Saint Francis of Assisi".  He was definitely the closest thing to a saint I've ever known.

My Dad was an all-around great guy, and as far as I'm concerned, the embodiment of what most of us only aspire to be. 

My Dad suffered a massive aneurism on March 6'th in the early morning hours, and passed away on March 7'th.  His wake was held on Sunday March 11'th at the Blanchard Funeral Chapel (which is owned by his neighbor, and where he had worked for the last couple years as an usher and driver.)  He was buried on March 12'th.  He was 67 years old.

Now there's just my Mom, my Sister, and myself in the family I grew up in.  Add to that our spouses and the grandkids.  In the end I think this will make us a closer family.  My Sister and I need to look out for Mom now, because she needs a lot of help, and all of us are looking out for each other, because heck, we all need help now.  Saying goodbye to Dad was the hardest thing any of us have ever done, and the only thing harder will be getting on without him.

Here's an obituary for my Dad.

At the close of my Dad's funeral service, I read a poem that I had written for him back in the early 1990's, before I myself became a Dad.  We printed up 200 copies of the poem superimposed over a picture of my Dad, and left them at the back of the church for people who attended the service to take home.  The family always goes out first (and me a little early since my brother-in-law and I were pallbearers.)  As I sat in the limo I watched dozens and dozens of people walk by with copies of the poem.  It was touching, like sharing a little bit of my wonderful Father with everyone who loved him.  In the end it looks like about 120 or so were taken.  I'm glad I wrote that poem because it gave me a chance to tell my Dad how much I loved him before he was gone.

So now there's nothing left to do but pick up and try to carry on, and always keep my cherished memories of my Dad.  I've got to support my family and always try to do right by his example.

I want to thank my family and friends for their kind words and support over the last week.  You guys were awesome.  Thanks.